Red sky at night
by ThreeMagpies
Summary: A Revolution fic: Bass Monroe/Charlie Matheson. Charloe. Blackout AU. Post S2 (no comics). The war is over, the Patriots on the run but instead of celebrating with the others, Charlie looks for somewhere to be on her own, the grief and loss she has endured finally demanding to be heard. With storm clouds on the horizon, Bass follows her.


**Red sky at night…**

A Revolution fic: Bass Monroe/Charlie Matheson. Charloe. Blackout AU. Post S2 (no comics).

The war is over, the Patriots on the run but instead of celebrating with the others, Charlie looks for somewhere to be on her own, the grief and loss she has endured finally demanding to be heard. With storm clouds on the horizon, Bass follows her.

 **Author's note:**

Hi there, and thanks for dropping in. This is a birthday story for my lovely and talented friend, LoveForTheStory. I hope you like it Love and that you have a wonderful birthday year full of love, joy, fun - and of course, lots of coffee and chocolate! :) cheers and much love, Magpie xxx

...

Charlie wandered over towards the playground in the park by the school, deserted now because everyone was over at Willoughby town hall celebrating the end of the war with the Patriots.

The shadow of a smile curved her lips, she'd left Miles and her mom still trying to work out how to behave around her now they knew that she knew about their not so secret affair and Aaron and Priscilla busy trying to pretend they weren't still interested in each other. And Monroe? He'd been very quiet, not really celebrating either - or drinking much come to that, and he hadn't mentioned Connor once, although she knew that that's who he was thinking about. His only son, who'd joined with the enemy and tried to kill him when Monroe chose Miles instead of him.

She knew enough about it to be sorry for him, even after all the other things he'd done, grateful too. He'd saved her life yet one more time because Tom Neville had absolutely been going to kill her. She'd seen it in his eyes. If Monroe hadn't done what he did, she'd be dead.

She was curious too. Why had he stayed? Why had he chosen them? It had to be Miles, the two of them really were like brothers. Fighting each other one minute, back to back fighting the bad guys the next and she knew it wasn't her mom. Rachael had accepted his being one of them now, had even said thank you when he turned up with Davis, but they were anything but comfortable around each other, in fact there was something she couldn't quite work out that had happened between the two of them, something weird, and it wasn't just about Danny.

She sighed, giving up trying to analyse her nearest and dearest, feeling the aches of the last few days in every bone and muscle, the loss and grief of the last months like a heavy weight on her shoulders. It was hard to think about celebrating anything or being in crowds of people. She just felt tired and being alone was easier than trying to be nice.

She walked past the fallen carousel and dropped onto a battered but still sturdy children's swing, her slim body fitting easily into the small seat. She started swinging, just a little, one hand holding on to the chains and her boots dragging in the dust because her legs were just that bit too long. Heaving a sigh of relief, her eyes drifted past the buildings through the trees and the late afternoon shadows until they were caught by the clouds starting to boil on the horizon.

Looked like a storm coming.

She glanced up at the peeling flakes of dull red, white and blue paint on the rusted frame of the swing, feeling a bittersweet flicker of nostalgia for the broken down Ferris wheel back in Sylvania Estates where she used to go to hang out sometimes when her dad thought she was hunting.

Her dad. Her gentle, reasonable and oh so smart dad. Who invented the thing that broke the world and who had secrets they still hadn't found out yet, who had kept secrets even from her mom. Especially her mom…

She wondered if he'd understand what she'd become, what she'd had to do to survive, to stay alive? Maybe he'd be ashamed of her. She'd done bad things, awful things. And she'd failed Danny. He'd been hers to look after and she failed. Her heart jumped a beat as her brother's face filled her memory, his smile, his kind eyes. He'd seemed so tall and handsome the last time she'd seen him, with all the promise of the man to come. The man he'd never grow to be.

Her eyes stung and she rubbed them with an impatient hand.

She'd tried to save him but Danny been so brave and so terribly, terribly stupid, running out into the open like he did. That awful moment that the bullets struck his chest, his body jerking with each impact still had the power to stop her heart. In that one moment the world had slowed to a silent, terrible crawl as he somehow stayed on his feet for a few long, agonising seconds although she knew, and Miles, her mom and all the others knew that he was already dead. Nothing could fix damage like that, not even her mom's science experiment.

Grief for Danny, for her dad, for Maggie and Jason and so many, many others filled her, the wet heat of tears on her cheeks sucked up by the dry, thirsty wind, leaving her skin sore and stretched like bones in the desert. She shivered, then closed her eyes, arms wrapped around the swing chain, her head leaning against them. The temptation to give into it and cry herself as dry as the wind was almost too hard to bear. They'd won, against the patriots anyway, but it didn't feel like victory to her, she just felt empty, cold, dead inside.

She looked up, the clouds were overhead now, coming fast, all dark greys and browns with flashes of sullen green and dull gold as the sun tried to break through. The storm had almost arrived, driving the wind before it, the air full of ozone and breathless expectation. Maybe lightening would strike her and take her away and she wouldn't have to keep trying…

'Charlotte?'

She tensed. The voice had come from behind her. It was him. Of course it was. He seemed to have an uncanny way of knowing when she was in trouble. But this time there was no one to fight, no one to kill. No one to save her from except herself.

In spite of her trying to hold them in more tears spilled over and down her cheeks and her heart was pounding. Deep down inside she'd been hoping that someone would care enough to follow her, would maybe care enough about her to be watching her back. She hadn't known how much it would mean that it was him.

Monroe.

She brushed a hand across her cheek, wiping the wetness away because the wind had suddenly stopped then sat up straight and turned, the chains of the swing clanking as she moved. 'Thought you were partying with the others.'

He was standing close, a tall, hard presence, close enough to see the tracks of tears on her face. His hands clenched and he sucked in a breath, leaning towards her, a hand on the top bar of the swings. 'Saw you leave, thought I'd come check you were ok.' His eyes were fixed on her face, worry, anger and something else she couldn't name swirling in the blue depths. 'You shouldn't go out on your own, Charlie, I thought you were smarter than that. There're still patriot troops unaccounted for, and who knows what the nano's doing.' He tipped his head towards the horizon, 'and there's a storm coming, gonna be a bad one, I can feel it.'

He smelled of whisky, male sweat and leather with the tang of metal and gunpowder like a seasoning of spice. His scent surrounded her, sinking into her skin, familiar but somehow different now, the air between them vibrating with tension. She looked him in the eyes, defiant, defensive. 'I can look after myself, Monroe.'

He reached out and long fingers brushed her cheek and lingered, catching the remnants of tears, 'I know you can, but right now you're distracted.' His voice was quiet, as intense as his eyes, 'Charlie, you didn't even know I was behind you till I called your name.'

He was right. Shit. She frowned but it didn't occur to her to pull away. Somehow she didn't mind him being there. Out of all of them, he was probably the only one who could understand how she felt.

His fingers were gentle, although rough from hard work and handling a sword. The bluer than blue eyes were gentler now too, the anger fading, the something else getting stronger. 'Miles and your mom were at a meeting with Blanchard, they didn't see you go.'

She shrugged, wondering if he knew how much that hurt, although she should be used to it by now. 'Or they would've come instead? Is that what you're saying?' Anger made her voice harsh, 'you've done your duty, Monroe, you can go tell Miles and my mom that I'm ok and they don't need to worry.' She swung round, giving him her back. 'Go on, get back to the stupid party. I don't need you, I don't need anyone.'

He just stood there. He didn't say anything but she could feel his eyes on her.

She swung back, eyes as stormy as the sky, 'I mean it. Fuck off, Monroe.' Damn it, she was crying again and she sounded like some stupid, hysterical girl. She jumped to her feet, the swing seat flipping over, chains clattering behind her, fury surging through her whole body as she flung herself at him, fists pounding on his chest, feeling him brace against the impact. 'Fuck off…' damn it she was screaming now, and she didn't even mean it, not really.

'Charlie, it's ok, I get it, I know…' He put his hands up, letting her hit him, not even trying to stop her, the hard muscles of his chest and shoulders solid and steady beneath her fists, his body like a rock she couldn't move.

She kept going, crying so hard she couldn't see, hitting him as hard as she could because it felt so fucking good to let it out, to let it all out, get rid of it. And because she knew he could take it, could take anything she could give because she'd seen him take so much, much worse. She hit him so hard and for so long her knuckles hurt and she could smell blood from where they'd split on a button or something, but it was like something had burst inside her and she couldn't stop, couldn't make herself stop…

He just stood there and let her do it.

Then the storm was on them, the air around them going from light to dark in a split second. A deep, deep rumbling sound surrounding them like the earth cracking in two, then lightening cracked and crashed to earth somewhere nearby and the world turned bright, glaring white.

Charlie reeled back in shock, blinded by her tears and the light, her hands reaching for something, anything to hold on to and finding his shoulders. feeling his arms come down and around her, lifting her up into the air and holding her tight against him. She tensed, startled, not understanding. She struggled to get loose, arms and legs flailing but he just held her tighter, closer. She felt his lips close to her ear.

'Shit…Take it easy, Charlie, storm's almost here.' Then he was running, taking her somewhere, voice sounding hoarse and laboured as he ran, his words barely out of his mouth before being taken by the wind. 'Hold tight, we gotta find cover.'

She could hardly hear him over the thunder and rising wind and a noise like a hundred trains coming towards them. Somehow managing to haul herself up to look over his shoulders she saw the rain coming like the end of the world, hard and furious and worse, hail stones the size of bullets and grenades striking the ground like weapons, like bombs, leaving pits in the earth, trees and bushes broken like twigs and turning the grass and everything else white. Above them everything was black, with flashes of silver lightening, a solid wall of cloud spinning slowly, inexorably, reaching up to the sky. The thunder was a low, constant rumble that shook the air as well as the ground and the crash and grinding of tortured metal and other stuff grated in a dissonant, hellish harmony.

The swing set came tumbling and careening past them, seats and chains flapping in crazy, tangled circles, torn from it's concrete setting like a child's toy. A rusted bike followed, its pedals going round and round in a whirring blur and then a huge tree branch, leaves and branches fluttering free like birds…

She stared in awe, scared to her bones and not ashamed to admit it. Pressing her cheek against the heat of Monroe's throat she hung on, trying to make carrying her as easy as possible, not even thinking of making him put her down because there was no time, the pounding of his legs as he ran, the steady heartbeat, male strength and the hard muscled arms around her the only real, human things she could find to hang on to in the face of a storm that was as deadly as anything she'd ever faced.

He ran them into the park's old toilet block, brushing past dirty but solid brick walls into a cool, dark echoing space, quiet after the din outside, his breath sounding loud and harsh as he looked around, checking the place out. 'Down…on the floor.'

She nodded, looking up. The ceiling still looked solid and the walls were brick except for a line of small windows near the top. He'd found them a good place, they might have a chance. 'Yeah…' then she slid down out of his arms and kept going onto the cool concrete of the floor next to the row of dry sinks and cloudy metal mirrors in the middle of the room, flattening herself out next to the bricks underneath, only just missing hitting her head on the drain pipes.

The storm was nearly on them, the noise deafening, apocalyptic. The rain and hail pounded the roof and she looked up at him standing there, anxiety making her angry, shouting because he wouldn't hear otherwise. 'What are you doing? Get your ass down here.'

He nodded and held up a hand, 'It's ok, I'm coming, just need to get us something.' There was an old mattress lying against the wall and Monroe grabbed it, pulling it over and leaning it against the sinks before diving down into the small, dark space it left next to her, turning side on so he could fit his bigger body in, his face ending up unnervingly close to hers, one of his legs sliding along hers until he pulled back a little.

She blinked, not sure where to put her hands because just about anywhere she did, she'd be touching him although the idea of that didn't disturb her as much as she'd thought it would, in fact quite the opposite. Damn.

He grinned, sudden, unexpected, his eyes and teeth gleaming in the gloom, his breath warm on her face.

'What's so funny?' Charlie squirmed and wriggled, managing to get herself a tiny bit more comfortable on the hard floor. Although the word comfort didn't really apply in her current situation, but at least they were away from the storm raging outside. She tried to read more on his face but it was too dark. At least it was quieter though, the mattress muffled the din outside pretty well. She was impressed.

He'd saved her. Again.

He chuckled, his hand casually brushing her arm, a finger stroking up to her shoulder, teasing.'It's just that I'm usually on top of the mattress when I'm lying this close to a beautiful woman.'

She blinked again, not sure how to respond to that. He'd never said anything about how she looked before. Then she huffed. 'I know what you're doing, Monroe.'

He shrugged, the movement rippling down his body in the confined space. 'It worked, didn't it?' A long finger gently nudged her chin.'You've stopped crying,' He winced and shifted a little, 'and hitting me.'

She looked at him for a long, long moment.

He looked back at her, outwardly calm, waiting for her, although she could see the big pulse in his neck leaping faster, could see his shirt fluttering with each beat of his heart.

Then she leaned forwards and kissed him, his scruff tickling her nose, his lips parting a little under hers, in surprise or passion, she didn't know yet, wasn't quite sure, although she was planning to find out. Then she pulled back, putting her hand over his mouth to stop him saying anything. At least until she'd said what she needed to say. Something that was long overdue.

Overhead, it was quiet, the storm had passed over and a beam of sunshine shone in through the high windows and onto the dirty tile floor in front of them.

She leaned towards him again, her eyes holding his until she was too close and everything went blurry. The she took her hand away and pressed her words against his lips, sealing them with another kiss so he couldn't forget. 'Thank you,'

…..

AN: Dear Love, happy birthday my friend and I hope you enjoyed this and that I did justice to your lovely prompt. Hoping that your birthday year is wonderful and fulfils all your dreams and hopes. Love and respect, Magpie xxx :D


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